


Seeing Red

by Wonko



Series: Traffic Lights [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Related, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Not too heavy, some unwanted male attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: Episode continuation/alternate ending for S18E43 - Back in the Ring.Serena tries to be Bernie's wing woman at Traffic Light Night.





	Seeing Red

_ “Oh good heavens. Right, well just to be clear I’ll be on red all night,” Serena said, fiddling with the traffic light buttons she’d just been handed. “Oh, hello,” she added as she caught the bartender’s eye, “that is red for Shiraz, please: two, large.” _

* * * * *

She was on her second glass and feeling pleasantly warm and magnanimous when she found herself observing her drinking companion out of the corner of her eye. She’d been doing that a lot today, she’d noticed - her eyes tracking Bernie as she moved through the ward, watching her with patients, meeting her gaze to share amusement or frustration without words.

“What?” Bernie said.

Serena blinked innocently. “What what?”

“You’re watching me,” Bernie said.

Serena’s cheeks pinked a little. “I was just thinking,” she mused. “It’s about time you put yourself out there again, don’t you think?”

Bernie turned on her barstool, staring at Serena with a befuddled expression. “Time I what?”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Dating, Bernie. You’re familiar with the concept?”

It was Bernie’s turn to blush. “Uhm…” she stammered. “Not as such, no.”

Serena took a sip of her drink. “You were married for twenty-five years,” she said, raising one eyebrow.

Bernie fiddled with the stem of her glass. “Exactly,” she said. “Marcus and I…” She shrugged. “We were mates. We swapped lecture notes and downed whisky shots in the student union. And then he said he wanted to…” She took a large sip of her drink. “Anyway, it just seemed to happen, really. And Alex and I weren’t exactly canoodling in the back row of the cinema during our clandestine meetings between bombings and trauma surgeries.”

“And that’s, uhm,” Serena probed delicately, “that’s the full extent of your knowledge of the topic in question?”

Bernie nodded, hiding her eyes behind her fringe. “Yup. I suppose that’s what forty eight years of studied repression will do for you. Marcus…” She shrugged again. “Other men had asked me out before, obviously. It was easy to say no though. But he was my friend and...well, anyway.” She finished her wine. “That’s that.” She gestured towards Serena’s now empty glass. “Another?”

Serena nodded, an idea forming in her mind. She reached over and grabbed Bernie’s traffic light indicators while her friend attracted the bartender’s attention, grinning wickedly as she switched the light from red to green.

“Oi, what d’you think you’re doing Fräulein?” Bernie said indignantly, trying to wrangle the little box out of Serena’s hands. Serena held it just out of reach, laughing.

“I’m signalling your availability,” she said.

“But…” Bernie spluttered.  _ “Serena. _ What if I don’t want to signal any such thing?”

Serena waved away her concerns. “Oh, of course you do. I happen to know there are at least two lesbians and one bisexual in this bar right now.”

Bernie scanned the room, noting that almost everyone she could see seemed to be at least twenty years her junior. “And have any of them grown beyond the first trimester?”

Serena swatted at her arm. “I actually met Alex Dawson briefly you know,” she said in a confiding tone. “She’s what, forty at most? Don’t pretend a little age gap would stop you.”

Bernie flushed. “Well,” she admitted. “Perhaps not. I’m just not sure what they’d see in  _ me.” _

Serena felt her jaw drop and had to force herself to close her mouth lest she look like a particularly dim goldfish. “You’re joking, yes?” she said, her eyes dropping automatically to slide up Bernie’s body from her booted feet to her messy golden curls. A little rush of heat flowed through her. “You are quite possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and anyone in this bar would be intensely lucky to receive your attention, should you choose to give it.”

It hadn’t seemed possible, but Bernie actually managed to blush harder. “Oh, I...I mean...Serena, I...that is to say-”

“Thank-you is usually sufficient, when someone pays you a compliment.” A sly smile spread across her lips.

Bernie looked up through her fringe, pinning her with a smoky, heated glance that bypassed all of Serena’s usual restraints and hit her straight in the gut. She felt her stomach drop. “Thank-you,” Bernie said. Her voice was smooth and soft, like flowing honey.

Serena coughed once to clear her throat, taking a large sip of her wine. “Right.” She glanced towards the bathroom. “I’m going to the loo, and you’re going to go and talk to Nina Mackenzie.” She nodded towards a woman of about forty with warm brown skin and tight, neat dreadlocks. “Specialist cardiac nurse on Darwin, broke up with her girlfriend about three months ago.” Her eyes twinkled. “She’s on green.”

Before Bernie could open her mouth to protest, Serena was off. She took her time in the bathroom, taking the opportunity to splash some water on her face and touch up her makeup. She examined herself in the mirror critically, thinking that her roots could do with some attention and her crows’ feet were deeper than they used to be. She heard her mother’s voice in her head -  _ you’ve had that boy’s cut for years  _ \- as she attempted to fluff her hair, to inject some body into it. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes at her own reflection. She could preen herself as much as she liked, but nothing could be done about the tired fifty-one year old woman underneath. She thought about Alex Dawson with a stab of self-recrimination.

“Bloody old fool,” she muttered to herself, then picked up her bag and headed back to the bar.

The first thing she saw when she returned to her seat by the bar was that Bernie was gone. She turned round to look at where Nina Mackenzie had been sitting and, sure enough, she found her friend. She wasn’t saying much but she seemed to be listening, nodding along to what the other woman was saying. Serena’s cheeks got a little warmer as Nina reached out to touch Bernie’s arm, running her finger along the veins and tendons of her hand.

Serena spun round quickly and missed the glance that Bernie shot in her direction as she carefully extracted her hand from Nina’s grasp. She took a large sip of her drink and started in surprise when she felt Bernie slide onto the stool beside her. “Back already?” she said. “You two seemed like you were getting on.”

Bernie shook her head. “She says smoking is a deal-breaker.”

Serena raised an eyebrow, thinking of how - there was no other way to put it - how  _ sexy _ Bernie looked with a cigarette dangling between her fingers. While she certainly agreed with Nina from a health standpoint, she couldn’t help but feel the younger woman had missed a trick.

“You wouldn’t be willing to quit for the right woman?” she prompted.

Bernie cocked her head. “I might,” she allowed. “But Nina Mackenzie, nice as she is, is not the right woman.”

Serena smiled fondly. “Fine. Well, that’s one lesbian down. You’ll have to go and have a crack at Sarah Elliot from HR next.” She gestured to the other side of the bar where a blonde of about their own age was sitting alone with a glass of white and a book. She had black-rimmed plastic glasses resting on the end of her nose and her hair was done up in a French twist. “A bit old for you, but give her a chance.”

Bernie rolled her eyes. “You seem to have got the idea I’m some kind of habitual cradle-snatcher,” she grumbled. “I do like women my own age you know.”

“Excellent, there’s no problem then,” Serena said blandly, her eyes twinkling.

Bernie shook her head, blushing. “She’s not on green.” She craned her neck a little. “She’s on amber. What does amber mean?”

Serena shrugged. “I think it means go and ask.” She pushed Bernie off her stool. “Go on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“Public humiliation? Having to leave my job for sexually harassing a human resources manager?”

Serena rolled her eyes so hard she thought for a second they might fall out. “Please. What’s your idea of sexual harassment? Inviting someone to scrub in to a complicated surgery with you?” She shoved her towards Sarah. “Go on.”

As soon as Bernie had gone, the easy smile slid from Serena’s face like it had never been there. She turned away, not wanting to watch what was about to take place at the other end of the bar. She glanced down at her little traffic light indicator. Perhaps she should spend a bit of time on green herself. A distraction might be good, after all. What if Bernie and Sarah hit it off? Oh God, what if they went home together? And there Serena would be, the wrong side of fifty and decidedly on the shelf.

She took a morose sip of her wine and was just about to flick her light to green when someone slid into Bernie’s seat. “Back already?” she said, a little involuntary smile jumping to her lips. “That was fast.” But when she turned to face her companion it wasn’t Bernie: it was a man she vaguely knew, one of the locum anaesthetists having a spell on Keller. What was his name again? Kevin? Keith?

“Good evening, Ms Campbell,” he said, his words coming out slightly slurred, like writing from a fountain pen that had been improperly blotted.

“Hello,” she replied, her tones clipped and professional. “Mr...I’m sorry, I’m afraid your name’s escaped me.”

“Johnson,” he supplied. “But call me Keith.”

Serena winced a little. Keith came top of her list of unattractive male names, along with Brian, Terry and - oddly enough - Bernie. She liked the last a lot more when it came attached to leggy blonde trauma surgeons rather than the balding librarian with a paunch the name usually brought to mind.

Keith drew her attention back to him by reaching over her to tap on her traffic light indicator. “Playing hard to get, eh?” he said, giving Serena a whiff of his breath which she instantly decided ought to come with a warning sign saying ‘no naked flames’. The man had clearly had more than his share of booze.

“If by that you mean not interested, then yes,” Serena replied curtly, but Keith just grinned stupidly.

“Come on,” he said. “Beautiful woman like yourself, all alone? You can only be here for one thing.”

Serena turned a look on him that would have had a more intelligent - or less drunk - man running for the hills. “I beg your pardon?” she said, in a voice like cracking glass. 

“Come on,” he slurred. “Lighten up.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Keith wasn’t even looking at her face - his eyes were glued to her cleavage and his lips had curled in a leer that made her skin crawl. To her horror, she realised that his hand was in the air and making a beeline for her breast. She froze, unable to quite believe that she - Serena Campbell, consultant vascular surgeon, co-clinical-lead of AAU, Harvard MBA and former Deputy CEO of a major city hospital - was about to be groped in a well lit bar opposite her own workplace, surrounded by her colleagues.

_ I’ll destroy him,  _ she thought, rage and humiliation already filling her chest along with an acid hit of bile. 

But before his hand could make contact with her, he was brought up short by a hand wrapping round his wrist and gripping with the strength of a vice. Serena blinked and looked up, confused. “Bernie,” she murmured. She’d never been so glad to see another person in all her life.

“Oi, who d’you think you are?” Keith was saying, struggling against Bernie’s grip.

“Who am I?” Bernie ground out through clenched teeth. “Major Berenice Wolfe, ex-British Army, trained in multiple styles of armed and unarmed combat, and the woman who’s going to turn your bollocks into Christmas ornaments in about ten seconds if you don’t apologise to my friend right now.”

Serena’s face flushed, not with embarrassment or anger this time, but because Bernie Wolfe - her cheeks flushed, her voice indignant, her muscled forearm straining with effort - was quite possibly the sexiest thing she’d seen in her entire life. Big Macho Army Medic indeed.

Keith didn’t seem to appreciate it much. “Sorry,” he muttered, not meeting Serena’s eyes. 

She raised her eyebrows. “Apology very much  _ not  _ accepted,” she said archly. “Expect a visit from HR in the morning because I  _ will _ be filing a grievance. Now, trot on. I’d like to finish my wine in peace - which, incidentally, is the ‘one thing’ I came to this bar for.”

After he’d slunk off, Bernie reclaimed her seat. She cast a worried eye over Serena, taking in her slightly dilated pupils and her red cheeks with a frown. “I’m so sorry, Serena,” she said. “I shouldn’t have left…”

“I should be able to sit having a drink in a bar on my own without being leched on,” Serena protested. “This is nanobrain over there’s fault, not yours.”

Bernie still didn’t look happy. “Still,” she said. “If I’d been here…”

Serena waved away her concern. “Enough,” she said. “I don’t want to think about Mr Soon-to-be-Unemployable. Did you hit it off with Sarah?”

Bernie frowned. “Who?” she said, then realisation dawned. “Oh! No, uh...she actually had her eye on Nina.” She nodded towards Nina’s seat, and Serena turned her head to see that both of Bernie’s temporary companions for the evening were now sitting together, their heads bent low and their bodies angled towards each other. Bernie shrugged as she continued. “She only spoke to me at all because she’d seen me with Nina earlier and she wanted the inside scoop.”

Serena sighed. “Only you could try to pull twice and end up matchmaking instead.”

Bernie blushed. “I wasn’t trying to pull,” she murmured, then glanced up at Serena through her fringe, biting her lip. She seemed to be considering something. “There’s only one woman in this bar I’m interested in,” she said at last.

Serena swallowed, her heart clenching painfully. She hadn’t expected that. It had been easy to keep it light when she was the one pushing Bernie towards other women. Her friend had been so reluctant to even talk to them, it made it easy to treat it as a bit of a laugh. This though? This was serious.

“Oh?” she said, trying hard to sound casual. “Anyone I know?”

Bernie nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said.

Serena's eyes landed on a beermat sitting on the bar in front of her. It was a little soggy. She frowned, thinking about how unhygienic it must be to have these damp little pieces of pressed cardboard around, soaking up various fluids before they were inevitably thrown away. Wasteful too. They should really use glass coasters - easy to clean and reusable. Good for public health, good for the planet. Perhaps she’d suggest it to the management.

“Serena,” Bernie said, and it was only then that she realised she’d been silent for a bit too long.

“Sorry,” she murmured, a shy, embarrassed smile appearing unbidden on her lips. “Uhm...who’s the lucky lady?”

Bernie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, a touch of sadness creeping into her voice. “She’s not interested in women as far as I know.”

A lump had formed in Serena’s throat. “Have you asked her?” she said, somehow managing to speak around it.

Bernie shook her head. “It’s not something you just ask people, is it?” she said.

“Why not?” Serena looked down at the beermat again. “Practise on me if you like.”

Bernie rolled her eyes. “What, I’m supposed to just go up and say ‘Hi, sorry to bother you, but are you by any chance open to dating women?’”

Serena blushed. “Yes,” she said. “And if you said that to me I’d say-”

“No thanks,” Bernie said. “I know.”

Serena coughed. “Oh, I don’t think you do,” she said softly.

Bernie sat very still for a very long moment. Serena stared steadfastly at the soggy beermat. “Uhm,” Bernie began eventually, “are you saying that you...that you’re-”

“The bisexual I mentioned earlier?” Serena set her shoulders. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Bernie breathed, and there seemed to be an ocean of meaning in that one stuttering syllable. “Have you...I mean since when...uhm, have you always…”

Serena shook her head. “It’s a relatively recent revelation,” she admitted.

“Right,” Bernie said, blinking hard. “Okay. Gosh.” She shook her head as if to clear away some cobwebs. “Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Serena nodded and took a large sip of her neglected Shiraz. She was appalled to discover her hands were trembling slightly. “Yup.”

Bernie’s expression softened. “Oh,” she murmured. “Well...thank-you. I’m honoured.”

Serena let out a prim little cough. “Yes, well, there we are,” she said. “You know my little secret, let’s hear yours.”

For a moment Bernie frowned, confused. Then she seemed to remember and her face cleared. “Oh,” she said. “The woman I’m interested in.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “You think she’s not interested in women.”

“Apparently not the case,” Bernie replied under her breath, then her eyes widened as she realised what she’d said. Serena raised an eyebrow, turning her head to meet Bernie’s eyes.

“Oh?”

The expression in Bernie’s eyes could only be described as panic, but Serena didn’t look away. She stared into her friend’s eyes, trying to communicate without words like they’d been doing on the ward all day, like they always did in theatre, like they’d been doing since the day they met. Slowly, Bernie’s muscles relaxed.

“There’s still one problem though,” Bernie said at last, with only a slight tremble in her voice. She glanced down at Serena’s traffic light indicator. “She’s on red.”

Serena followed her gaze. For a long moment she was still, listening to the sounds of the bar around her: the murmur of conversation, the clink of glasses, the faint background music. Then, slowly and deliberately, she flicked her light to green.

Bernie sucked in a gasp. “Serena,” she said, but Serena shushed her with a look.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she said.

Bernie replied by practically falling off the barstool and speeding over to the cloakroom to collect their coats. When she returned she was already wearing hers and was holding Serena’s out. Serena laughed at her eagerness as she stepped into her coat, allowing Bernie to slide it onto her arms.

Within seconds they were out on the street and Serena had Bernie’s hand in hers, gently tugging on it until she followed her into the alley beside the pub where they were hidden from casual view in a pool of darkness just beyond the range of the nearest streetlamp. She leaned against the rough brick of the pub’s wall and looked up into Bernie’s face. Her cheeks were still pink from the warmth of the bar, her eyes wide and disbelieving as Serena stroked her hands over her lapels.

“Serena,” Bernie breathed, then laughed a little. “Is this real? Do you...do you really…”

“Yes,” Serena whispered as she gripped the lapels she’d been stroking and pulled. “I really do.” And then their lips met and that seemed to answer any other questions Bernie might have had.

A tiny whimper of surrender escaped Bernie’s throat. Her hands flew automatically to Serena’s hair, burying themselves in soft brown strands. Someone moaned - neither of them could have said who - and then Serena’s lips parted and her head tilted and the kiss deepened. She kissed Bernie like she’d been aching to do it for weeks, like she’d fantasised about it and dreamed of it and pictured it in idle moments on the ward...which, in fact, she had.

“How long?” Bernie murmured before immediately kissing her again. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks,” Serena admitted when she could bear to pull her lips away. It wasn’t long before she found the delights of Bernie’s skin too much to resist. She hummed in contentment as she pressed delirious, rapturous kisses over her cheek, trailing down to her throat. Bernie’s hands tightened in her hair. “Didn’t you notice how I’ve been looking at you?” Serena whispered against her skin, her breath warm and wet. “Can’t you see what you do to me?”

“I’m beginning to get some idea,” Bernie murmured. She tugged on Serena’s head, pulling her up so she could kiss her again. She surged forward, pushing Serena more firmly against the wall, pressing their bodies flush together. “Probably something similar to what you do to me.” She shook her head. “God, Serena…”

Serena looked into Bernie’s eyes, dark and hooded with desire, and felt her heart speed up. “Bernie…” she breathed, her eyes flicking once again to Bernie’s lips. But, to her surprise, when she leaned forward Bernie placed a finger on her lips.

“Wait,” she said, breathing hard. “I, uh...I’d like to do this properly.” She flushed slightly. “I don’t have the greatest track record, as you know.”

“Nor have I,” Serena allowed, her expression gentling. She untangled her hands from Bernie’s lapels and did something she’d been longing to do for far longer than she’d been able to admit it. She sighed at the first touch of her fingertips to Bernie’s hair. She pushed a few strands behind her ear, revelling in the new permission to touch just as much as in the exquisite softness.

Bernie leaned into her touch. “I want it to be different this time,” she said. “I...you’re so important to me, Serena, I- I don’t want to mess this up.”

Serena’s heart melted. “You’re so important to me too,” she said. Gently, she tugged Bernie’s head down for a kiss that was less heated than the last, but just as intoxicating. Bernie’s lips were soft and delicious. Serena didn’t think she’d ever get enough of them. When she pulled back from the kiss her eyes were shining. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

Bernie smiled tremulously. “Yes please.”

Serena grinned. “There’s an Italian restaurant I’ve been meaning to try. I hear it has an extensive wine list.”

“Of course.” Bernie’s smile was small but beatific. “Nothing but the best for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Serena said. “Among other things…”

Bernie trailed her fingertips down Serena’s cheek, sighing in contentment. “Thursday?” she suggested.

Serena nodded. She leaned up and pressed one last kiss to Bernie’s willing lips before pulling away. “Come on,” she said. “If we keep doing this I might lose control and have my wicked way with you here and now.” She smirked at Bernie’s dumbfounded expression, taking the opportunity to slip away from her grasp and head towards the street. “Not how I pictured our first time would go.”

“But you have pictured it?” Bernie managed to quip.

Serena spun round to face her. Silhouetted by the streetlamp, she pursed her lips. “Oh yes,” she purred in her lowest register. “But you won’t find out what I had in mind until at  _ least _ our third date.” With that she spun on her heels and walked away, laughing softly into the night.

Bernie stared dumbly at the place she’d been for a long, silent moment. Then a wicked grin spread across her face. “Wait for me!” she called, then trotted after her.

**Author's Note:**

> There might be a sequel to this along at some point. Or two. Amber - the date, green - after the third date? Heh, maybe.


End file.
